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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676540">Minimalist Packing Techniques</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miniaturedragonfly/pseuds/miniaturedragonfly'>miniaturedragonfly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(for the most part), (other times), (sometimes), Canon Compliant, Casa Trobed, Casa Trobedison, Friendship Trobed, Gen, Missing Scene(s), Post canon, Pre Canon, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:21:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miniaturedragonfly/pseuds/miniaturedragonfly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen chapters of Troy and his red duffel bag through the years.</p><p>Songfic of "Everything I Own Fits in This Backpack" by The Wonder Years, but you really don't need to have heard the song.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeff Winger/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes &amp; Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes &amp; Annie Edison, Troy Barnes &amp; Annie Edison &amp; Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes &amp; Gobi Nadir, Troy Barnes &amp; Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes &amp; LeVar Burton (as himself), Troy Barnes &amp; Pierce Hawthorne, Troy Barnes &amp; Shirley Bennett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Been listening to old albums and couldn’t stop thinking about this song and how we always see Troy with that duffel bag every time he moves somewhere.  I thought this would be a fun little series of short oneshots, but when I started outlining it and deciding how to break it down, I was really intrigued by the number of places Troy canonically lives before he ever sets off on his journey, so it turned into… this.</p><p>It’s out of order but it starts somewhere close to the beginning, and ends somewhere close to the end.</p><p>In some chapters, I’ve adhered more to the emotion of the lines than the literal words, and in other chapters I’ve kind of ignored the original intent of the lines in favor of reinterpreting the words.  Just a heads up.  Also, ignore the fact that Troy has a TV character’s wardrobe and just bear with me in assuming everything he owns fits in the duffel bag, ok?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I woke up today and put all my shit in boxes</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It’s 8am so I'm glad I wasn’t out late</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>May 16th, 2010 - 8:03am</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy pulled his red duffel bag down from the top shelf of the closet in his childhood bedroom.He glanced around his room as he dumped the contents of his underwear drawer into the bag, trying to decide which of his belongings were worth taking with him.Abed had said last night that they’d be jumping the shark if they moved in together, so Troy had agreed to move in with Pierce for the year instead.Troy didn't really understand the shark thing, or why jumping it is a bad thing, but if agreeing with Abed means staying friends with Abed, Troy will agree to pretty much anything.And he gets it.Abed is—their friendship is—too important to risk screwing up like that.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> The thing is, Troy never really </span> <span class="s2"> <em>told</em> </span> <span class="s1"> his dad that he was moving out today.He kept meaning to bring it up, but every time he thought about it, either Troy was fighting with his dad or his dad was fighting with his girlfriend, and Troy hadn’t been spending that much time at home lately anyway.He slept in Abed’s dorm room most nights that year, ever since that time first semester when he fell asleep in the study room to the sound of Abed’s voice reading aloud from their biology textbook.Abed had come in early to find him still there the next morning.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you spend the night here?” Abed had asked, voice unreadable, once Troy was awake.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess so,” Troy had answered groggily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy had shrugged, he remembered, and mumbled something about being comfy and not wanting to move.Abed had nodded, asked if he wanted a clean t-shirt to borrow for the day.When Troy hesitated, not wanting to make Abed run all the way back to the dorms, Abed had produced a plain gray t-shirt from his messenger bag. Later, as the study group filtered out at the end of the night, Abed had invited him up to watch a movie, and Troy never slept on the study room couch again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He shook the memory into the back of his head.There was no time for remembering things right now.He glanced at the clock—8:35.Troy had about twenty-five minutes before his dad got up to head to Kingdom Hall, if his routine was the same as it had been the last time Troy was home on a Sunday morning (which was… three months ago? four?).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a knock on Troy’s bedroom door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Troy?Are you awake?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy cursed under his breath.He thought about not answering at all, but his bedroom was at the back of the house and didn’t get much light at this hour, so he’d had to turn on the lamp, which was definitely visible under the door, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>shit</em> </span> <span class="s1">.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” Troy called back.He stared at the doorknob, hoping he’d remembered to lock it last night but not daring to cross the room to check.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “I have some business to discuss with your cousin, so I want to get to Kingdom Hall early.Can you be dressed </span> <span class="s2"> <em>appropriately</em> </span> <span class="s1"> and ready to leave in thirty minutes?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy clenched his fists.He’d hoped to be out of the house before his dad had the chance to assume he’d be joining him for the Sunday morning meeting.If Troy was going to talk to his dad about this, about moving out, now was his chance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t go today,” Troy blurted out, then winced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His father was silent for a few moments, then spoke through the door in a voice that might have sounded calm to anybody else, anybody but Troy.“You haven’t attended a regular meeting in—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s been a while.I know.I have to—I have to help—Jeff—with something this morning.I’m sorry.”Troy almost said Abed’s name, but he’d been trying to cut down on how much he talked about Abed around his dad (“If you spend so much time with this boy, people are going to talk,” his dad had said over winter break), and since this was a lie anyway it was probably safer to use someone else as an alibi.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy’s dad sighed, loudly enough for Troy to hear through the door and over his own rushing thoughts.“I need to shower before having this conversation.Ten minutes, then we will discuss this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy felt his mouth dry up.He knew that if he had this “conversation” with his dad, it would end in yelling (on his dad’s part) and tears (on Troy’s part) and most importantly, it would end with Troy sitting in Kingdom Hall for half the day.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” he croaked, and stood perfectly still until he heard his dad’s footsteps move away.Then he sprang into action, grabbing handfuls of t-shirts and underwear and hurling them into the red duffel bag on his bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He heard the shower start down the hall.Ten minutes.He pulled out his phone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Troy Barnes (8:41am): </b>ready 2 go</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Shirley Bennett (8:42am):</b> On my way, pumpkin</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Troy Barnes (8:42am): </b>pls hurry</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Shirley Bennett (8:43am):</b> 5 min!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy shoved his phone in his pocket and spun in a circle.The duffel bag was nearly full, but there was some space left around the edges.Troy stuffed his winter socks, his gym shorts, and his last clean hoodie into the corners of the bag.It didn’t quite zip up all the way, but everything was packed so tightly that nothing budged when Troy hefted it experimentally.It was heavy, but nothing a former quarterback couldn’t handle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pulled out his phone to check the time—yanked his phone charger from the wall and crammed it into the pocket of his jeans—8:47.The shower was still running, and Troy didn’t want to be here when he heard it stop.He took one last glance around his bedroom and hurried out the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy grabbed his house key from its hook in the kitchen before slipping out the front door and onto the porch.As soon as it was in his hand, he realized he might not need it anymore, but he didn’t want to waste any time putting it back, so he stuck it in his pocket along with the phone charger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Almost at the same moment Troy locked the front door behind him—</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>see, good thing you grabbed the key after all</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, he thought—Shirley’s minivan pulled up in the street in front of his house.His dad’s house.He dashed down the steps, pulled open the passenger side door almost before Shirley had even stopped the car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hi Shirley.I really appreciate you giving me a ride, I know it’s early and it’s a Sunday, and thank you for being on time, I was cutting it a little close there,” Troy babbled, breathless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shirley glanced over at him as they rolled to a stop at the corner of Troy’s street.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Troy,” she said steadily, “did you just run away from home?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy started to roll his eyes, but caught himself just in time.“Kind of, I guess?But I’m nineteen, so not really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shirley hadn’t pressed the gas pedal yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shirley, please, I promise it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is that all you’re bringing to Pierce’s house?”Shirley still sounded uncertain, but she flicked on her turn signal and began to drive again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy looked down at the red duffel bag between his feet.“Yeah, it turns out all I really needed to bring with me was some clothes.And my toothbrush,” he added, hoping that having remembered it would make him seem more grown-up and responsible.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And you’re sure you want to do this?I don’t know that Pierce’s mansion is the best place for a—a young man to be living,” Shirley went on.She didn’t say “a young Black man”, but Troy knew they were both thinking it, both remembering every racist thing Pierce had said or done in the year they’d known him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, yeah, this is what I want to do,” Troy assured her.“Once school starts again I’ll probably go back to sleeping over in Abed’s dorm room half the time anyway.And Abed’s dad seems like he likes me—I think—so maybe I’ll sleep over at Abed’s sometimes during the summer, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Remind me why you’re not just living with Abed?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He doesn’t want to jump the shark.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And that doesn’t bother you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy shrugged.“Not anymore.He explained it a couple more times, and I get it now.”</span> <span class="s2"> <em>And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t get it, because I trust Abed</em></span><span class="s1"><em>,</em> he added privately.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I won’t argue.And if you run into trouble, you call me, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks, Shirley.”Troy knew Shirley didn’t really have space for another person in her house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have a very comfortable living room couch,” Shirley added, as if reading Troy’s mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I appreciate that.Thanks,” Troy repeated sincerely.He pulled out his phone.It was 8:58.He had no texts or phone calls, so either his dad’s shower was taking longer than he thought it would, or Troy was really in trouble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You should at least let him know where you went,” Shirley said without taking her eyes off the road.“He’ll be worried.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy scowled, but not at Shirley.“You’re right,” he conceded.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Troy Barnes (9:59am): </b>Sry, my ride couldn’t wait</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Troy Barnes (10:01am): </b>Probably won’t be home tonight</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Troy Barnes (10:04am):</b> Sorry</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Pierce’s mansion.Shirley reached up to the dashboard to turn off her GPS while Troy checked his phone one more time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good luck, pumpkin,” Shirley said, breaking the silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy wrapped his fingers around the strap of his duffel bag and hesitated for a moment, mentally preparing himself to step out of the car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I won’t make you late for church,” he said finally, just as Pierce opened the door of the mansion.Troy could feel Shirley’s eyes on him as he hopped out of the car and extracted the duffel bag from the seat well, but he could already feel the tears pricking at the edges of his vision, so he didn’t look up until he’d slammed the car door shut and made it up the steps to meet Pierce.He clutched the strap of his duffel bag unconsciously with one hand as he waved goodbye with the other, watching with his new roommate as Shirley drove away.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>And I woke up today,</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Guess it’s good I hadn’t finished</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>Unpacking all of this in the first place</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>July 18th, 2012 - 4:15pm</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy had never been so excited to go home in his entire life.The few months he’d spent at the Air Conditioning Repair School had been the longest months he’d ever experienced.As he packed up his belongings, all he could think about was getting to see Abed for the first time in months, which didn't seem like </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>that</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> long, but they’d spent pretty much every day together for three years, plus they’d </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>lived together</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> for a year, and sixty-two days without Abed was sixty-two days too long.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was so distracted by the prospect of seeing Abed again—what to say to him when they were reunited, what to order for dinner together, how </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>awesome</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> it was going to be to hug him again—that packing up to leave was taking way longer than it should have.</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Everything I own fits in this one bag, why is this taking so long, pay attention, Troy</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">, he scolded himself, slotting a rolled-up pair of socks into the space between two hoodies.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Truthfully, Troy hadn’t ever really finished unpacking his bag when he’d arrived at the Air Conditioning Repair School.It was dumb, probably, but he didn’t want to act like he was staying forever, even though he was </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>supposed</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> to be staying forever.Some part of him just wanted to believe that something miraculous would happen and he’d suddenly be free, and moving all his possessions into his standard-issue dresser in AC Housing felt like giving up on that hope.And anyway, the school had given him a few sets of coveralls, which he was required to wear to class and meals and really anywhere he went besides bed or the shower, so there wasn’t much of a point in unpacking.So he’d put his underwear and socks into one drawer, stuffed his coveralls and t-shirts into another, and tossed his toothbrush into the top drawer, then shoved the still-half-full duffel bag under his bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Now he was getting his chance, since he was apparently the messiah of guys who fix air conditioners now, and since he’d told them to act like a regular school and they’d listened.It seemed almost too good to be true, and Troy really wished he could focus on packing so he could </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>get out of there</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> before it all fell apart, before the AC Repair instructors changed their minds and kept him here forever.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Finally, Troy wedged the last t-shirt into place in his duffel bag.He pulled it onto the floor so he could sit down on the top to zip it up—it was one of those things he’d seen in so many movies that eventually he’d had to try it.Unlike popping the back of a raft to make it go faster, though, this one actually worked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He picked his phone up off the bed.They’d given it back when he asked for it, after the whole Sun Chamber ordeal, but he hadn’t turned it on yet.He wanted to be really, really sure he was getting out before he contacted any of his friends.It would be cruel to get their hopes up, and anyway he was pretty sure he remembered that their Biology final was supposed to be today at five, and he didn’t want to interrupt their cramming.He slipped the phone into his pocket.The clock on the wall said 4:43, which gave Troy just enough time to find his friends before their biology final (assuming he’d remembered the time correctly).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy lifted his duffel bag onto his shoulder and hurried out the door, beaming.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>The suburbs have abandoned me</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>I’ve had the same best friend since ’93</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>I call, he’s not answering, no,</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>
      <em>I can’t get comfortable on my own street</em>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Late September, 2009</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy started living at his dad’s house full-time the summer after his injury, and he wasn’t sure where else to go once the school year started, so he stayed where he was.Every night, he fell asleep to the hum of the air-conditioning unit in his window, wishing he could convince his dad to let him move into the dorms at Greendale.He hadn’t asked, but he knew what the answer would be: why move into the dorms when his dad’s house was only a 20-minute walk from campus?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The answer, of course, was “because living at home sucks”, but Troy had a feeling that wasn’t going to be a convincing argument.Especially if Troy started crying when he tried to use it, which would probably happen.Crying was probably not a good way to show his dad he needed more independence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe if he had started talking about it earlier in the summer, he could have gotten his dad on board by this point, but he hadn’t known he’d wanted to.The summer was fine, especially at the beginning.People from school kept coming over to see him, and his friends would carry him into someone’s car and check out a wheelchair for him when they got to the mall, and they’d all spend the afternoon camped out around the corner table at Yogurtsburgh, and it felt like they could be like this forever, eighteen and on top of the world, full of bravado and frozen yogurt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But they couldn’t be like that forever.They couldn’t even be like that for the whole summer, not all of them together.One by one, Troy’s friends packed up their lives and left for college, real colleges, none any closer to Greendale than Boulder, which might as well have been Boston for all Troy could tell.He tried to visit a few of them, got as far as packing a long weekend’s worth of clothes into his red duffel bag once before Scott realized he’d forgotten about a mandatory preseason team bonding event happening that same weekend.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hoped, at first, that the ones who </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>didn’t</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> pack up and leave would stick together as their numbers dwindled, but everyone who stayed in town got jobs and apartments and suddenly it was September and Troy realized he was lonely.In the back of his mind, he knew he had been lonely for a long time, but it was different now.The old loneliness had been a secret, a secret that was easy enough to conceal behind football trophies and prom king crowns and letter jackets.This new loneliness that had crept in would have been much harder to hide, if there had been anybody around to see it, but the new loneliness was only there because there </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>wasn’t</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> anybody around to see.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After the first week of classes at Greendale, Troy stopped calling his old friends.They were all busy now that summer was over, and Troy was busy with schoolwork for the first time in his life.In high school he’d skated by on charm and surprisingly decent test scores, supplemented with the occasional purchased essay.But when he got to Greendale, his teachers suddenly didn’t care how many records he’d broken in high school.They expected him to take notes and turn in assignments, and some of his classes didn’t even </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>have</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> tests, just papers, and he wasn’t sure how to find someone who’d write them for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then he saw her, in the front row of his Spanish class.He couldn't exactly put a name to the face, and she was kinda hot so he didn’t want to offend her by not remembering her, just in case, but he was pretty sure she’d written a paper or two for him in high school.He gave himself a couple of days to try to remember, and in the meantime he realized that she was in his Astronomy class too, which meant he </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>really</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> didn’t want to fuck this up, because if he played his cards just right, he might get someone to do his work in </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>two</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> classes instead of just one.There was also a skinny kid in his Biology class who looked like he could be persuaded to pull more than his fair share, so Troy casually pointed at him and raised an eyebrow when the professor told them to choose lab partners.He didn’t realize that the kid from Biology—Amir?—was </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>also</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> in his Spanish class until the next day, when Troy felt a tap on his shoulder from behind as he slouched in his seat, waiting for Señor Chang to arrive.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, Troy,” the kid said, an enormous toothy grin plastered across his face.It looked fake somehow, Troy thought, like it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes.Maybe he knew Troy didn’t remember his name, was waiting for Troy to get it wrong so he could laugh at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, buddy,” Troy replied.Eighteen years of needing way too long to remember people’s names meant this kid was going to have to try a lot harder to catch Troy saying the wrong name.Until he was </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>completely</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> sure he knew the kid’s name, he’d get by on “buddy” and “dude” and “man”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You remember me?From Biology?”The grin hadn’t moved.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, of course, man, we’re lab partners,” Troy reminded him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know.So anyway, my friend Jeff is starting a Spanish study group, we’re meeting today at four in study room F in the library, if you want to join you can just show up at four.I’ll probably get there early but if you get there at four that’s the time we’re going to start,” the kid paused to catch his breath, still smiling wide.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, for sure, I’ll be there,” Troy said, not totally sure if he meant it, and turned back around before the kid—Ahmed? that seemed closer—could start talking again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Excuse me, did you say ‘study group?’” said a new voice above Troy’s head.He snapped his head toward the voice, trying not to look like he’d been startled, then raised his eyebrows despite himself when he saw the owner of the voice.It was the girl from Astronomy, the kinda-hot one he thought he recognized from high school.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I did, we’re meeting today at four in study room F in the library,” the kid was saying behind Troy.“My friend Jeff is a certified tutor, which I didn’t even know was a thing but he told my other friend Britta about it and she told me and said I could invite people, so I’m inviting you guys.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you should put up a flyer or something, instead of just asking random people.If you have access to a certified tutor, it’s not fair to pick and choose who you share that information with,” the girl scolded, then in a much softer voice added “Hi,” as she briefly made eye contact with Troy before flouncing back to the front row of desks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk.Now he was </span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>definitely</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> going to go to that study group.Between the skinny nerdy kid from Biology, the kinda-hot nerdy girl from Astronomy, and a board-certified tutor (who he assumed would be equally nerdy), he might not have to do any homework here after all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I’m not fond of South Philly,</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Or how my neighbors love ICP.</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I guess it’s better than Bancroft Street,</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>At least the fridge here works and the walls don't leak,</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>At least</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>December 4th, 2010 - 2:32am</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy had been twenty-one for approximately two and a half hours.So far, the best thing that had happened on his birthday was getting to drive Jeff’s Lexus, which </span> <span class="s2"> <em>was</em> </span> <span class="s1"> pretty cool, but he couldn’t really even enjoy it because his friends were all sad.Plus, he was really worried that Britta was going to puke in the backseat.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The day before, when Troy had thought he was still a whole year away from manhood, had been good, up until the end there.Maybe Troy could just call December 3rd his birthday from now on.It wasn’t like it would matter, now that his order-a-drink-at-midnight-on-his-21st-birthday moment had already passed, and his family members were all Jehovah’s Witnesses so they didn’t acknowledge his birthday anyway.Troy was pretty sure his friends would go along with it, if he asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy turned his head to the side and checked the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall of his bedroom in Pierce’s mansion.It was 2:44, definitely too early to worry about it.He closed his eyes, willing his brain to calm down so he could sleep, but he kept thinking about Annie in that tiny apartment in that terrible neighborhood.He kept coming up with new additions to the list of things that could happen, ways Annie could get hurt living there.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>If I had to find an apartment, it would probably be just as shitty</em> </span> <span class="s1">, Troy thought, trying to reason his brain into calming down.He’d been living with Pierce for a whole semester now, and he’d gotten comfortable enough in the mansion to grouse about how long the shower took to heat up, about how Pierce left dishes all over the living room, about how it was too far away from campus to walk so he had to spend fifteen minutes in the car with Pierce twice a day.But the mansion was quiet, and Troy could eat breakfast outside in his pajamas if he got up early enough, and the hot water always eventually arrived.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy looked at the clock again—3:08.He pressed his hands over his eyes, promising his brain that he’d be grateful for what he had in the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>morning</em></span><span class="s1">, if he could just get some sleep first, please.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> He smirked then, alone in the dark.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Grateful for what he had</em></span><span class="s1">, he’d thought, as if more than a tenth of the things in his bedroom </span> <span class="s2"> <em>belonged</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to him.The furniture was all Pierce's, as was everything hanging on the walls (though Troy fully intended to take the glow-in-the-dark clock with him when he moved out, because it was awesome).The only things in Troy’s room that actually belonged to Troy were his toothbrush and the clothes in his dresser—and his toothbrush was actually in the cabinet above the sink in the bathroom, not in Troy’s bedroom at all.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy rolled onto his other side and reached under the bed, patting the carpet until he felt the smooth nylon of his duffel bag.He grabbed a handful of the loose red fabric, dragging the flattened bag out easily with one hand.He squinted in the dim light as he flipped open the top of the bag.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t quite empty.There was a t-shirt crumpled in the corner, a couple pairs of underwear in various stages of becoming unfolded sliding around on the bottom.And folded neatly along one side was Troy’s letter jacket.He knew it would be better for the jacket to hang it up, but he’d stopped wearing it over a year ago and felt weird about hanging it up next to all his normal clothes.The letter jacket hardly even seemed like clothing at all anymore.It was more like a suit of armor Troy had worn in his old life, one he didn’t need anymore or even really want to look at every day.But he didn’t really want to get rid of it, either, so he’d compromised, left it in the duffel bag under his bed where he could visit it sometimes.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> The t-shirt and boxers, on the other hand, were nothing special.Troy told himself he kept them in the bag because he wanted it to look, at a glance, like he’d just forgotten to unpack all his stuff when he moved in, to avoid answering any questions about the letter jacket, but that wasn’t really it.Truthfully, Troy was kind of scared to put everything into his dresser, because that would mean he really </span> <span class="s2"> <em>lived here</em></span><span class="s1">.He’d been sleeping in this room for eight months, yeah, but this wasn’t where he belonged.Maybe he was still holding out hope that Abed would agree to move in together next year, maybe he was a little scared that Pierce could kick him out at any second.It wasn’t like Troy was paying rent.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> He was working on it, though.He’d been filling out job applications, trying to find somewhere to work so the next time he asked Abed about living together next year he’d be able to say “look, I’m responsible, responsible enough to know that we’re going to be fine”.Because he </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> know that.Even if their apartment <em>did</em> turn out to be as shitty as Annie’s, they’d be fine, because they were Troy and Abed, and they could conquer any dragons they wanted to, as long as they did it together.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy ran a thumb over the collar of his letter jacket, his old armor.Jeff was the first one to tell him to get rid of it, and Pierce was the one he finally listened to, but Abed was the reason he stopped needing it.Troy smiled at the thought, hoped he would remember it in the morning so he could think of it again later on.He closed the duffel bag and slid it back under the bed, then pulled the blankets up around his chin.He glanced at the clock one more time.He had been twenty-one for three and a half hours.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I’m starting to see what’s left for me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I’m starting to—</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>October 23rd, 2011 - 10:30am</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy woke up early—early for a Sunday, anyway—to go get the rest of his stuff from his dad’s house, now that he was really living somewhere of his own.He and his dad hadn’t really spoken since Troy moved out over a year ago, and Troy wasn’t that interested in starting a conversation, so he’d just jogged the mile from Casa Trobed to his dad’s house, hoping his dad’s Sunday morning routine was still the same as it had been when Troy lived there, and let himself into the house with the key he still carried with him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as his key settled in the lock, Troy realized how lucky he was that his dad hadn’t changed the locks after Troy left, or set the door alarm after leaving for Kingdom Hall in the morning.He waited a moment after opening the door a crack, listening for footsteps or voices or anything that meant he wasn’t alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hearing nothing, Troy pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped into his old home.He hadn’t set foot inside his dad’s house since leaving at the end of freshman year, and everything looked different somehow.But not like anything about the house had changed, just like Troy’s eyes had changed.Or something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He shook his head and slipped his keys into his pocket.On his way up the stairs to his bedroom, he passed a wall of photographs, all of his dad and his girlfriend.He seemed to remember that there used to be photos of himself on that wall, but he left the thought behind as he passed by the wall, replacing it with the happier thought of his own picture wall in his own apartment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy paused at the top of the stairs, listening one more time for any sign that his dad was still home.Satisfied, but still cautious, he made his way purposefully to the end of the hall.He reached out and turned the doorknob, letting himself into his old room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Except it wasn't his old room, not really.He almost turned around and looked for a different door, because his room wasn’t supposed to look like this, but then he realized what had happened.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe he should have expected this.He’d been gone for more than a year, and he and his dad had barely exchanged a dozen text messages in that time.It shouldn’t be surprising that his dad has moved on, and it shouldn’t be surprising that his dad didn’t think it was important to tell him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even so, Troy felt the tears beginning, and it was all he could do to shut the door of the room that used to be his bedroom and sink down to the floor, hugging his empty backpack to his chest.He pulled his phone out of his pocket.It was 10:38 now, so he had about half an hour to get out of the house before he’d have to start worrying about his dad coming home and finding him there.He thought about walking home, or to Greendale to find a place to hide and cry, but he wasn’t sure he could hold off the tears that long, and he didn’t love the idea of walking across town with tears streaming down his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So he needed a ride.He almost called Shirley, but remembered at the last second that it was Sunday morning and she was almost definitely at church.Abed didn’t drive, Annie and Britta would both ask too many questions, and Pierce would have something mean to say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He scrolled through his contacts until he found Jeff’s name, and pressed “call”.The phone rang twice, loud in Troy’s ear amid the quiet house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hello?” Jeff answered the phone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey Jeff, it’s Troy.Can you come pick me up?“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you’re crying about something dumb and you’re calling me to get me to fix it, I’m going to have to ask you to wait until business hours.I’m having brunch,” Jeff declared.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is that Troy?” Britta’s voice interjected from somewhere on Jeff’s end.“You’re being a terrible friend.If sleeping with you means watching you talk to Troy like that, I’m never coming over again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff sighed into the phone.“Fine.I’ll come get you, as long as you promise not to tell anyone what you just heard.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Deal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where are you?If you give me a location anywhere outside a five-mile radius of my apartment, there are going to be follow-up questions,” Jeff warned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m at my dad’s house, it’s right by campus.I can text you the address, but I kind of need a ride pretty soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff went quiet for a second, then asked what Troy was doing at his dad’s house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just came by to pick some stuff up while my dad’s at—“ Troy didn’t even get through the sentence before the tears won.He started to cry.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m on my way,” Jeff said then.“Text me the address.”The line went dead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy got up off the floor, picked up his empty backpack, and walked down the stairs while he texted Jeff.He didn’t feel like spending any more time inside the house, so he let himself out the front door and locked it behind him.He sat down on the steps of the porch, crying openly.He didn’t know anybody here anymore, it didn’t matter who saw him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After a few short minutes, Jeff pulled up in his Lexus.Troy hurried to the car and got in, still crying.Jeff drove away immediately, but after a few minutes Troy noticed that Jeff wasn’t taking him home.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where are we going?” he asked, half expecting Jeff to have some plan to teach him a lesson about bothering him on a Sunday morning, despite what Britta had said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nowhere,” Jeff replied.“You just seemed like you’d benefit from driving around with a friend for a little while.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy nodded gratefully.Jeff was right, as usual.“Maybe I’d benefit from </span> <span class="s2"> <em>driving</em></span><span class="s1">,” he suggested halfheartedly</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff laughed once, a sharp, humorless sound.“That was a one-time deal, kid.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Worth a shot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They drove around town in silence for a while, then Troy spoke up. “My bedroom is a baby’s room now,” he said.“Or it’s going to be, anyway.It doesn’t look like they’re finished painting or anything yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you know that before you got there?”Jeff didn’t take his eyes off the road.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you… talk to your dad?”Troy hadn’t talked to Jeff about his dad much, but nobody moves in with Pierce without a good reason.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does your dad know you were there?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um… not really.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff didn’t say anything to that, just kept driving, and for a while Troy wasn’t sure if Jeff was going to yell at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe they put your stuff in storage or something.You could ask,” Jeff said eventually.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy nodded.“Yeah.”He already knew he wasn’t going to ask.Whatever he’d left in his old bedroom, it was gone now.All he had left was whatever had fit into his red duffel bag when he moved out so suddenly all those months ago.That was okay, Troy reminded himself.It was okay because he had a job now and could buy himself new socks when his old ones got holes, and he lived with Abed, whose DVDs and posters were more than enough to fill their apartment, and they’d been talking about Annie moving in soon too.But it still kind of sucked, knowing he couldn’t go back.He felt himself starting to cry again as he pondered it, so he shook the thought out of his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Jeff spoke up from the driver’s seat after a few minutes.“Hey, as fun as this is for both of us, I think I’m gonna drop you off at home now.I </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> leave Britta alone in my apartment.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy blinked.He’d been staring out the windshield and letting his mind run in circles, and he’d almost forgotten how he’d gotten into Jeff’s car in the first place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, that’s fine, Abed’s probably wondering where I am, anyway,” Troy said once he’d collected his thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff raised an eyebrow.“You didn’t tell Abed where you were going?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy looked down at the backpack in his lap.“I think I kind of knew,” he admitted.“I didn't want to tell anyone what I was doing, just in case my room wasn’t there anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Jeff nodded, then spent the rest of the drive in silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When the car rolled to a stop outside Troy and Abed’s apartment building, Troy risked a glance at Jeff, hoping it wouldn’t make the tears start up again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks for coming to get me,” Troy said before opening the door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank Britta.I would have made her come get you herself, but you know how I feel about people driving my car.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you can thank her for me, then.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not a word about any of this,” Jeff reminded him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy mimed zipping his mouth shut and climbed out of the car, slinging his empty backpack over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We moved on again, so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I packed my shit and left home</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It’s all right to think I still belong to something I don’t,</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>‘Cause I can see why you’d think so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>January 18th, 2012</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy had just poured the milk into his bowl of Cocoa Puffs when Abed appeared in front of him, holding something red and floppy in his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What is this?” Abed asked bluntly, dropping the bundle unceremoniously onto the table.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> For a moment, Troy wasn’t sure </span> <span class="s2"> <em>what</em> </span> <span class="s1"> it was, but after a few seconds of sleepy blinking at the pile of red material, it clicked.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh.That’s my duffel bag.I used it when we moved in here, remember?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Yes, I see that it’s a duffel bag, and I remember that you used it to move in.I’m wondering when you were planning on telling me you were in the middle of packing it to move </span> <span class="s2"> <em>out</em></span><span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy almost laughed, because that was ridiculous, but at the last second he saw the pained, almost angry look on Abed’s face and swallowed the laugh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Uh… Abed, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed scooped the duffel bag up off the table, turned it over, and shook it.Troy’s letter jacket came tumbling out, along with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, both of which immediately slithered to the floor after landing on the table.The letter jacket stayed where it had landed, a crumpled heap of fabric that used to mean something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re packing,” Abed said.His voice broke on the word “packing”, and its sharp edges broke Troy’s heart.He jumped up from his seat, nearly knocking over his cereal bowl in his haste to reach Abed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Abed, no,” Troy mumbled as he threw his arms around Abed’s skinny shoulders.He felt Abed’s body tense, then hesitantly relax, in his embrace.“Here—c’mere.”Troy plucked his t-shirt and boxers off the floor and stuffed them back into the duffel bag, tossed the letter jacket on top, then tucked it under one arm as he led Abed through the apartment into their blanket fort of a bedroom, replacing his other arm around Abed’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy dropped the duffel bag on the ground and kicked it under the bed.It caught on the carpet and didn’t travel as far as he expected, but he ignored the edge sticking out into the room and sat down on the bottom bunk, gently pulling Abed down to sit next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Okay.Tell me what happened.”He didn’t add </span> <span class="s2"> <em>please go slowly</em> </span> <span class="s1"> or </span> <span class="s2"> <em>start at the beginning</em></span><span class="s1">, because he knew he didn’t need to say those things for Abed to remember to do them for him.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed looked down at his lap as he began to speak, his usual monotone more apparent than it normally was.“I wanted to pick up some shots for that Die-Hard-meets-Home-Alone thing I’ve been working on, so I needed to find my Christmas sweater.It wasn’t in the costume bin, so I thought it might be in the closet, which it was, but it was under… this,” he intoned, prodding the red fabric of the duffel bag with his toe.“When I picked it up, I felt something sliding around inside, so I checked to see if it was my sweater, but it wasn’t my sweater.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed looked like he was ready to stop talking, but Troy still didn’t understand what was upsetting him, so he sat quietly, waiting for Abed to begin again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he did, his voice was even quieter than it had been before.“If this is about the celebrity impressionists, I already promised that it wouldn’t happen again.If this is about something else, just tell me what I did, and I’ll fix it.You don’t need to leave.I want you to stay,” he finished, almost inaudibly.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy sat still for another moment or two, staring into space, putting Abed’s words together in his head.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Christmas sweater—impressionists—leave</em></span><span class="s1"><em>—</em>suddenly, it all fell into place.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not moving out,” he said, turning his head to look at Abed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Friends don’t lie to each other,” Abed mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not lying.”Troy reached out and placed his hand on Abed’s shoulder, then waited for Abed to look at him.Abed didn’t meet his eyes, but he turned his head toward Troy.“I’m not lying.I’m not moving out,” he repeated gently.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then why are you packing?” Abed asked, frustration sharpening the edges of his words.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy sighed a little, then.He had hoped he would never have to explain this to anybody, because he wasn’t really sure he knew how, but it was clear that Abed needed some sort of explanation, so he was going to have to try.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is going to sound… dumb,” Troy began.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed said nothing, just waited expectantly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not really sure how to explain it, so I’m gonna start way back at the beginning.When I moved out of my dad’s house, everything I took with me to Pierce’s mansion fit into this bag.When I got to Pierce’s house, it took me a really long time to unpack.I guess I kind of kept thinking my dad would show up and make me move back home.”Troy had taken his hand off of Abed’s shoulder by now so that he could lace his own fingers together in his lap as he spoke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That didn’t happen, obviously, but I sort of… never really got around to unpacking all the way?I think part of me was afraid that something would happen and I would have to leave, and I wanted to be ready if it did.But I knew it was dumb, and also I didn’t have that many shirts in the first place, so eventually I unpacked most of it, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to be ready to go.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed hadn’t reacted yet, so Troy kept talking.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “When we moved in here, I unpacked everything, but I kept thinking that something could still happen, something that would mean I’d have to leave.So after a few days, I dug out the duffel bag, threw a change of clothes inside, and shoved it in the closet so I could stop worrying about it.That doesn’t—Abed, I promise that doesn’t mean I </span> <span class="s2"> <em>want</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to leave.I actually forgot about it, for months, until just now.Even when I was mad at you about the celebrity impressionists, I didn’t even think about the fact that I had a bag packed, because I wasn’t even </span> <span class="s2"> <em>thinking</em> </span> <span class="s1"> about leaving.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy could hear the desperation lacing his words by the end, but Abed didn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not going to leave.I’m not leaving you.I don’t want to, and I won’t,” Troy promised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed nodded, finally, and Troy felt the muscles in his shoulders relax immediately.“Will you tell me if you decide to leave?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course, buddy,” Troy agreed almost before Abed finished speaking.“I won’t, but if I did, I would tell you right away.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Pinky swear?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy breathed a sigh of relief.“Pinky swear.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They linked their little fingers and nodded solemnly at each other.Troy reached down and dragged the duffel bag back out from under the bed.He bent over and pulled out the t-shirt and boxers, then unzipped a side pocket and removed a pair of socks too.He stood up and walked across the room to the dresser, yanked open a drawer at random, and tossed all three items into it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There.Now it’s all unpacked.I live here now, and I don’t want to live anywhere else,” he declared grandly, spreading his hands wide.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A small smile appeared at the edges of Abed’s mouth, and Troy’s face broke into a grin.Then Abed’s smile faltered, and Troy’s disappeared too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about this?” Abed asked carefully, drawing Troy’s letter jacket out of the duffel bag beside him by the sleeve.He pinched the fabric between two fingers, like he didn't want to touch it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Uh, I don’t really wear it anymore,” Troy said uneasily, grabbing the back of his own neck with his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed frowned slightly, thinking.“Not since season 1,” he agreed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Here, I’ll take it,” Troy offered, and Abed let go of the letter jacket to pick up the whole bag and toss it to Troy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You could hang it up.That would keep it from getting wrinkled.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” Troy muttered absently, feeling the fabric of his old jacket.On a whim, he grabbed it, and let the bag fall to the floor.He shrugged on the jacket, avoiding Abed’s gaze as he moved to look at himself in the mirror propped against the foot of the bunk bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It looks like a costume,” Abed remarked, and Troy still didn’t look at him even though he could feel Abed’s eyes raking over his torso, calculating.“Like something you would never wear on your own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Or like armor,” Troy mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t an answer, but Abed seemed satisfied, tapping his fingertips on his knees as he looked up at Troy, smiling almost imperceptibly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy took one last look at himself in the mirror, then removed the letter jacket.He looked in the mirror again, straightened his shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I like you better this way,” Abed remarked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy nodded.“Yeah.”He tore his gaze away from the mirror, met Abed’s eyes.He grinned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m hungry.I’m making cereal,” Abed announced then, standing up.On his way out of the blanket fort, he turned to look at Troy again.“I’m glad you’re not leaving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me too, buddy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed hummed contentedly, a single note at first that turned into the tune of Daybreak as he let the blanket-door of the blanket fort fall shut behind him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy looked down at the letter jacket in his hand.He heard the kitchen cupboards opening and closing, then the fridge door.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He balled up the jacket, crossed the room, and picked up the duffel bag.Troy shoved the wadded-up jacket into the very bottom of the bag, then crouched down and shoved the whole thing under the bunk bed, making sure it was entirely out of sight before standing up again and joining Abed in the kitchen.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In the midst of my research for this chapter, I somehow decided <i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i> came out a year earlier than it did.  By the time I realized, I’d already written this chapter and another that mentions the movie, and fixing it would be a lot of work, so let’s just say that in the canon of this fanfic, it came out in 2014 instead of 2015.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Nothing made me feel further away</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Than “Left and Leaving” through a blown car stereo</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Nothing made me feel closer to home</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Than “Ready to Die” through my headphones</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>December 10th, 2014</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy had been traveling the world with Levar Burton for almost a year, and he still couldn’t decide if things were mostly the same or mostly different from home.At first, he’d assumed that everything would be different, but Britta’s last words before he left had turned out to be more true than he expected.Sometimes, it really </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> feel like the only thing that changed from country to country was the candy bar wrappers.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Other times, Troy couldn’t stop noticing all the differences between Greendale and everywhere else.They’d pile up above his head, a running list of </span> <span class="s2"> <em>the sun is hotter here</em> </span> <span class="s1"> and </span> <span class="s2"> <em>the streets are narrower here</em> </span> <span class="s1"> and </span> <span class="s2"> <em>all the street signs are in Korean here</em> </span> <span class="s1"> pressing down on his shoulders.Sometimes they’d buckle under their own weight, and one or two would tumble down, knocking Troy’s breath out of his lungs all of a sudden.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of course, as heavy as the things on his list got some days, none of them even came close to the biggest difference between Greendale and the rest of the world: Troy was alone here.LeVar was with him, sure, but even Troy’s childhood hero couldn’t really fill the void that opened up in Troy’s heart the second the study group was out of sight.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> It was December 10th, which wasn’t a real holiday to anybody outside of the study group, but Troy was surprised to find that he missed his friends even more than he had a week earlier, on his birthday.He felt so lonely wandering around the streets of Paris that day, even with LeVar by his side, that he almost ducked into a café to send an email or something to the study group, but he’d talked to Annie and Abed on the phone just the day before, and he wasn’t sure what he would say except “it’s Christmas, except not really, and I miss you guys”.Even if he </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> send an email, he wouldn’t be able to wait around for a response—it was early afternoon, which meant it would be </span> <span class="s2"> <em>really</em> </span> <span class="s1"> early in the morning in Colorado.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar was talking next to him, something about their plans for the rest of the week, but Troy wasn’t really listening.They’d set off in the morning for England, then go on from there—essentially the same plan they’d been following all year.Troy could afford to get lost in his thoughts and his sightseeing by this point.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then he stopped in his tracks.He hadn’t seen a movie theater in months—purely by chance—and this one looked a little different from the shopping mall movie theaters he was used to, but the combination of movie posters and blinking white lightbulbs was unmistakeable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Troy?Is everything alright?” LeVar had stopped when Troy did, but hadn’t bothered to follow his sight line to see what he was staring at.Troy didn’t blame him—he knew he had a tendency to stare into space while he was thinking, then blurt something out that was completely unrelated to whatever he happened to be looking at.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m going to see a movie,” Troy answered, already walking briskly toward the theater.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> LeVar caught up to him in a few quick steps, and Troy felt a memory dislodge itself from the imaginary pile of Things Troy Missed About Home, tumbling down to smack Troy on the side of the head.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Abed used to do that</em></span><span class="s1">, Troy’s brain whispered, cruelly, as if he didn’t already know that.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know the movies are all going to be in French, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That hadn’t actually occurred to Troy, but it didn’t really matter.“That’s fine,” he said, without breaking his stride.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Troy,” LeVar said then, and Troy could tell that LeVar had stopped walking, so he reluctantly paused and spun around to face him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t speak French.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s fine,” Troy repeated.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar looked like he was going to say something else, but he just nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t have to come with me,” Troy offered.“I can go by myself.I just—I have to see a movie today.It’s December 10th,” he finished, as if that explained anything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Again, LeVar nodded.“I’ll go have a coffee and see if I can check my email somewhere,” he said. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Meet you back here in a few hours?” Troy said, already backing away from LeVar, desperate to get inside the theater.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure,” LeVar replied.Troy barely heard him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Inside, the theater looked familiar, if a little fancier than what he was used to.It was mostly empty, with just a few people waiting to buy tickets and a few more in line for concessions.Troy hesitated near the entrance, scanning the list of showtimes.He didn’t recognize any of the titles, but there was a showing of </span> <span class="s2"> <em>something</em> </span> <span class="s1"> starting at 13:45, so Troy joined the line for tickets.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he reached the front of the line, the cashier behind the counter looked at him expectantly, and Troy remembered belatedly that he didn’t speak French.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Uh… </span> <span class="s2"> <em>bonjour</em></span><span class="s1">,” he tried, hoping he could get through this transaction without holding up the line too long.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The cashier raised an eyebrow and said something in French.Troy took a deep breath, concentrated on sounding out the words on the signboard above the cashier.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “One,” he started, holding up a finger, then corrected himself, “</span><span class="s2"><em>un</em></span><span class="s1">, for, uh, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>La Famille Bélier</em></span><span class="s1">.”He smiled hopefully at the cashier, wishing for the thousandth time that he hadn’t left the universal translator somewhere in the basement of Greendale.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Again, the cashier responded in French, but this time she looked concerned.Troy smiled wider, holding out a handful of euros he was </span> <span class="s2"> <em>pretty</em> </span> <span class="s1"> sure added up to the amount shown on the little screen at the cash register.He turned around when he felt a tap on his shoulder.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Pardon me,” a woman’s voice said from behind him, and Troy turned around to apologize for taking so long and holding up the line, but before he could speak, she continued.“American?” she asked, not unkindly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Oui</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">,” Troy answered, then wondered if he should have responded in English.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>Parlez-vous français?</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">” the woman asked, speaking slowly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “</span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Non</em> </span>
  <span class="s1">” Troy replied, which just about exhausted his French vocabulary, so he really hoped that whatever this stranger said next, she would say in English.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The film is in French,” the woman told him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Troy nodded.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You cannot understand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy shrugged.“That’s okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “I am hoping I am not rude, but please may I suggest?”The stranger gently took hold of Troy’s elbow, leading him off to the side so the rest of the ticket line could keep moving while they spoke.“Nearby there is another cinema, where this week they are playing the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em> </span> <span class="s1"> films, because there is the new film coming next month—still in French, but perhaps easier for you to understand?”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy thought about it, considered taking the address of the other theater and finding LeVar to tell him where he’d gone.It </span> <span class="s2"> <em>would</em> </span> <span class="s1"> be easier to understand a movie he already knew, a movie he’d seen a hundred times before.But as soon as the thought entered his mind, he realized how </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wrong</em> </span> <span class="s1"> watching </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em> </span> <span class="s1"> without Abed would feel, and he knew he couldn’t do it.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Um, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>merci</em></span><span class="s1">, but—no,” Troy answered.He hoped the stranger didn’t think he was rude for turning down her suggestion.“I think it would make me feel homesick,” he explained.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The woman nodded.“<em>B</em></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>onne chance</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">,” she said with a smile, then added, “Good luck.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy circled back to the end of the line.As he waited for his turn, he whispered "</span>
  <span class="s2">
    <em>La Famille Bélier"</em>
  </span>
  <span class="s1"> over and over, practicing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he reached the front of the line, he held out his handful of cash and stumbled through the movie’s title again.The cashier still seemed apprehensive, but she took his money and handed him a ticket.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy glanced up at the clock on the wall.He still had a few minutes before the movie was supposed to start, so he got in line for concessions.This line moved quickly too, and Troy bought himself some popcorn.The largest size available wasn’t half as big as the buckets of popcorn he remembered splitting with Abed at the theater inside the Greendale Mall, but it would have to do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once he had found his seat, he sat down and tasted the popcorn.It was sweet instead of salty, but he decided it was okay, and ate another handful, tucking the information away in his brain so he could tell Abed someday.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He almost let himself get sad again thinking about telling things to Abed, but the trailers started and he turned his attention to the screen.They were all in French, but he saw some actors he recognized, and he relaxed, munching on his popcorn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then, suddenly, a trailer that had begun with a few shots of what looked like a mummy climbing through a warehouse shifted to an image of a sandy desert landscape.Something about it felt so familiar that Troy froze, handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.A woman wrapped in faded beige clothing carried a staff away from the camera, a small round robot following closely.Troy stared at the screen, motionless, until just a few shots later when the camera panned across a sea of soldiers, all dressed in identical white armor.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>This is the trailer for the new </em> </span> <span class="s1">Star Wars<em>, </em></span> <span class="s2"> <em>and I’m watching it alone in Paris</em></span><span class="s1">, Troy thought to himself then, as he started to cry.He barely saw the rest of the trailer through his tears, wouldn’t have been able to describe it afterward, but while it was playing he was back on the couch in Abed’s dorm room, which hurt more than anywhere he’d been all year.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> He pulled himself together during the last few trailers before his movie started, but it didn’t last long.After just a few minutes of the movie, Troy started to cry again, but this time it was because he felt so goddamn </span> <span class="s2"> <em>far away</em> </span> <span class="s1"> from Greendale.He was glad the theater was mostly empty, especially because he was pretty sure <em>La Famille Bélier </em>was supposed to be a comedy, and he was glad he hadn’t tried to go see </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span><span class="s1">, but this sucked too.It sucked so much he cried through the whole movie, only stopping when the credits began to roll.He watched them scroll by, respectfully, like Abed always did, and refused to let the familiarity of the ritual make him cry again.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Later, back on the boat, he pulled the ticket stub from his pocket and tucked it into the bottom drawer of his dresser, alongside all the other small treasures he’d been collecting.As he pulled his hand out of the drawer, it brushed against the red nylon of his duffel bag, which lived in the same drawer out of necessity—there wasn’t much storage space on the boat, even for someone whose belongings only filled two small drawers.The texture of the fabric threatened to topple the pile of differences clustered above Troy’s head, but Troy pushed the feeling away, cramming it into the drawer as he slammed it shut.He climbed into bed and let the ocean softly rock him to sleep.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He dreamed of going to the movies with Abed, and when he woke up his pillow was damp.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>So, we reached the coast</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Where do we sleep tonight?</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Damned if I know,</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We’ll try to stay at the airport.</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>You can’t send us home, man</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We’ve got no place to go</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>January 24th, 2014 - 6:19pm</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is as far as I go,” the truck driver said, shaking LeVar’s hand.Troy was pretty sure their original driver had swapped out with someone else in Nevada, but he wouldn’t put it past Pierce to have hired one driver for an eleven-hour journey from Greendale to the coast.LeVar had finished answering Troy’s Star Trek questions after a couple hours, at which point Troy realized that he’d spent most of the past twenty-four hours awake and playing Hot Lava, so he took a nap then.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Now he’d traded the hot lava for hot pavement beneath his feet in a parking lot somewhere in southern California—</span><span class="s2"><em>the sun set like an hour ago, how is the ground still so warm</em></span><span class="s1">, he thought.He could see the ocean from where he stood, and the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Childish Tycoon</em> </span> <span class="s1"> tethered to the dock.Troy thought he should be more excited, or nervous, or scared, but he was Clone Troy now, and Clone Troy was mostly just still exhausted despite the nap.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He zoned out for a few minutes as the enormity of the task ahead washed over him.Then he started to feel a little lightheaded, so he stopped, scrubbing his hands over his face as if washing the thoughts and fears away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar was saying something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have bad news.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy dropped his hands to his sides.Had something gone wrong back home already?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is Abed okay?” he asked frantically.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar gave him an odd look.“I assume so.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy sighed with relief.“Oh, good.What’s the bad news?” he asked, mostly unconcerned now that he knew Abed was okay.Well, he didn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>know</em> </span> <span class="s1"> Abed was okay, but at least now that he knew Abed wasn’t not-okay enough that LeVar had found out about it.He should probably stop thinking about Abed so much.Abed was going to be fine.Abed could handle anything, especially now that he was Clone Abed.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar was talking again.Shit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry.Still groggy,” Troy grinned apologetically—it wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.He would probably stop worrying about Abed once he got on the boat and had other things to worry about, like sailing a ship.“Give it to me one more time?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve been calling around, trying to find us a couple hotel rooms for the night, but everything’s full.I guess there’s some kind of sporting event happening, I don’t know.The point is, I’m not sure where we’re going to sleep tonight, especially since our ride just drove off and we don’t have another vehicle.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy shrugged.“We can sleep on the boat.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you sure you want to do that?We’re going to be spending quite a few nights on the boat.Also, I’m not sure if sleeping on a docked boat is strictly allowed, legally speaking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy rubbed one hand over his face again.He could tell that LeVar wanted to sleep in a real bed one last time before setting out, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you can find a hotel room, that’s cool, but I had… a really long, really weird night.I’m really tired.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> LeVar looked longingly down at his cell phone, then squinted at the deep blue sky.He sighed, then lifted his shiny black duffel bag onto his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ll stay in a real hotel the very first place we stop,” Troy promised, feeling a little guilty about trying to convince LeVar to abandon hope of a real bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ll see what happens,” LeVar shrugged, already heading toward the dock.Troy took a deep breath, then picked up his red duffel bag and hurried after LeVar. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy almost collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, but it occurred to him that he’d been wearing the same clothes for two days now, so he should probably change into his pajamas.He lifted his duffel bag onto the bed and unzipped it, only to realize that his pajamas had been the first thing he’d packed—which meant they were in the very bottom of the bag.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s3"> Troy sighed.</span> <span class="s1"> <em>If you’re taking everything out, you might as well just put it in your dresser as you go</em></span><span class="s3"><em>,</em> Annie’s voice intoned from the back of his mind.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine, but only because there’s not enough space to leave it all on the floor,” Troy muttered.He wondered briefly if he should be concerned that it was Day 1 and he was already talking to himself out loud, but brushed the thought aside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He began to take things out of his duffel bag.He could hear LeVar moving around in the next room, which was bigger than Troy’s room but he didn’t mind.He’d seen LeVar’s luggage piled up next to his own solitary red duffel bag, and it just made more sense for Troy to take the smaller space.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> As he unpacked, he started humming a little song to himself, but he had to stop when he couldn’t keep the tune from turning into </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Daybreak</em> </span> <span class="s1"> every time he stopped paying attention.It was okay, because it only took a few minutes to move all his t-shirts and hoodies and socks and his three extra pairs of jeans into the top two drawers of his little dresser.He didn’t have enough to fill all three drawers, and the room didn’t have a closet, so he wadded up the duffel bag, empty except for the letter jacket he still wasn’t sure what to do with, and stuffed it into the bottom drawer.Maybe he’d find something else to put in there later—<em>l</em></span><span class="s2"><em>ike souvenirs</em></span><span class="s1">, he thought as he stripped off his clothes and swapped them for his basketball pajamas.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He barely made it into bed before falling asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We moved on again, so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I packed my shit and left home</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It’s all right to think I still belong to something I don’t</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>‘Cause I can see why you’d think so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>‘Cause I can see why you’d think so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>August 15th, 2011 - 5:22pm</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just don’t get it,” Pierce grumbled, sitting on the edge of Troy’s bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy sighed, rolling another t-shirt into a skinny cylinder and tucking it into his duffel bag.They’d been through this fifty times in half as many days, and Troy had started to get tired of it after the second day.This was Pierce’s house, but he was acting like a younger sibling, hurt and offended that Troy was leaving him but unwilling to admit that he was taking it personally.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it a sex thing?” Pierce said suddenly, interrupting Troy’s silent grousing.That was a new one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?No!” Troy protested, annoyed by Pierce’s smug grin.“Abed and I are moving in together because we’re best friends and we wanna spend all our time together.Plus, I told you a year ago that I wasn’t going to stay here forever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, well, why doesn’t Ay-bed just move in here, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy rolled his eyes, and not just because Pierce mispronounced Abed’s name </span> <span class="s2"> <em>again</em></span><span class="s1"><em>, </em>even though they’d known each other for two years and also Troy </span> <span class="s2"> <em>just</em> </span> <span class="s1"> said it the right way.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’d save on rent.Maybe then you’d be able to buy yourself some new shirts,” Pierce scorned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy bristled.“That has nothing to do with anything, Pierce.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?Then why does everything you own fit in one bag?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “It’s a big bag,” Troy muttered, tuning Pierce out.It wasn’t that he </span> <span class="s2"> <em>couldn’t</em> </span> <span class="s1"> buy more clothes, it’s just that he hadn’t really needed to.The duffel bag fit a surprising number of t-shirts, especially when the only other things inside were a week’s worth of socks and underwear, a few hoodies, and a couple pairs of jeans.And a letter jacket.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy looked up at Pierce again when he realized the room had been silent for a few moments, which usually meant that Pierce had asked him a question and was waiting for a response.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” Troy asked bluntly, not bothering with politeness the way he used to when he had first moved in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I asked you why the hell you’d want to move out of a fully furnished mansion when all you have to your name is a duffel bag worth of clothing,” Pierce said, more viciously this time.Troy took the bait, even though he knew it was bait.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Because I don’t belong here,” he snapped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ve lived here for a year,” Pierce argued.“Are you insulting my hospitality?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> For a moment, Troy considered agreeing.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Yes, I am, because your hospitality is terrible and racist and you made me memorize twenty-seven steps on a guided tour of your house for</em> </span> <span class="s1"> no reason<em>, </em></span> <span class="s2"> <em>you dick</em></span><span class="s1">, he thought of saying, but he wasn’t really sure he trusted Pierce not to kick him out on his last night, and Abed was working a closing shift at his dad’s falafel restaurant so he’d have to sit in the dorm room hallway until at least 10:30 unless Pavel took pity on him and invited him in, and anyway, whatever Josie was making for dinner smelled way too good to miss out on, so he bit his tongue.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Lived here for a year, now he says he doesn’t </span> <span class="s2"> <em>belong here</em></span><span class="s1">,” Pierce muttered grouchily, loudly enough that Troy was certain Pierce wanted him to hear it.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “I </span> <span class="s2"> <em>don’t</em></span><span class="s1">, Pierce,” Troy interjected sharply.“I don’t belong here, with you and your creepy artwork and your racist dad and your shag carpets.I belong with Abed.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Gay,” Pierce mumbled, but he stood up and left Troy’s room, leaving him alone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy grinned down at his duffel bag as he zipped it closed.Now that he was all packed up, it finally felt real.Tomorrow he’d wake up in Pierce’s mansion, but he’d fall asleep in a bunk bed with Abed above him—they’d flipped a coin—and he’d finally be where he belonged.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say it’s up to me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say it’s up to me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say it’s up to me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say, don’t say—</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>January 22nd, 2014 - 9:52pm</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy wedged another pair of socks into his duffel bag.He noticed that his palms were sweaty again so he rubbed them on his pajama pants to dry them.Well, not </span> <span class="s2"> <em>his</em> </span> <span class="s1"> pajama pants.He’d borrowed Abed’s extra pair for the last few nights so that he could start his journey with all clean clothes.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Remind me again why I’m packing all of this a day early?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “So that in case you forgot anything, you have time to remember,” Abed recited from the top bunk, where he’d been perched since they got home from class.Troy rolled his eyes.Forgetting something crucial until it was too late </span> <span class="s2"> <em>did</em> </span> <span class="s1"> sound like something he would do, but he could always tell when Abed was lying.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"> <em>Not lying</em></span><span class="s1">, he corrected himself, though the voice in his head sounded more like Abed’s voice than his own.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Friends don’t lie to each other</em></span><span class="s1"><em>,</em> he thought, sounding like himself again.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know I can tell when you’re withholding information for narrating effect,” Troy grumbled pointedly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Narrative effect.”Troy waited a moment for Abed to go on, but he didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So you’re sticking with the story Annie clearly helped you come up with?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yep.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy sighed, but dropped it.He squeezed the last few t-shirts into the bag, then turned around and sat on top of it to zip it shut.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “There’s a new </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em> </span> <span class="s1"> coming out this year,” Abed said from above him.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy craned his neck to look up at Abed.“Yeah, I know, buddy.We’ve known that for like, a year.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We were going to see it together.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “No.We talked about how you’re going to miss the </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Kickpuncher</em> </span> <span class="s1"> remake next month, but we haven’t talked about </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span><span class="s1">.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Okay.What about the new</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span><span class="s1">?”Troy didn’t want to talk about </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span><span class="s1"><em>, </em>he just wanted to hang out with Abed—unless Abed wanted to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>watch</em> </span> <span class="s1"> a </span> <span class="s2"><em>Star Wars</em> </span> <span class="s1">movie, because then it would feel like they were just hanging out like normal.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just wanted you to know that it’s okay if you see it without me.Under normal circumstances, I’d be upset, but it’s okay because you’ll be in Spain or Italy or something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy frowned.“The new</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span> <span class="s1"> isn’t coming out until December.I’ll be back by then.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed nodded, staring into the corner of their blanket fort where the walls met the ceiling.“I’m just saying.Wherever you are.It’s okay if you see it without me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Okay, yeah.You too,” he added, in case Abed was worried that Troy would expect him to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>not see a new </em> </span> <span class="s1">Star Wars </span> <span class="s2"> <em>movie on opening night</em></span><span class="s1">.“You know I’m not expecting you to, like… wait for me, or anything, right?Not just for </span> <span class="s2"> <em>Star Wars</em></span><span class="s1">, just like, in general.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed didn’t look down from the corner, but something in his face changed.“I know.You’re going on this trip to become your own person.It wouldn’t make much sense for me to wait for you to come back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy started to agree, but something made him stop mid-nod.“Wait, hold on.I don’t want you to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wait for me</em></span><span class="s1">, but you’re gonna, like, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>be here when I get back</em></span><span class="s1">, right?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed hesitated.“You’re going on this trip so you can learn how to not need me.When you come back, you won’t need me anymore,” he said slowly, in a husky voice Troy had only heard a handful of times before.“Whatever space I keep open for you in my life, there’s no guarantee that you’re going to fit into it if you come back.That’s the whole point, right?That’s why you want to go: because you want to be someone new.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy gripped the frame of the top bunk with both hands, pulling himself up to stand on his own mattress.He stopped and waited for Abed to collect himself, then waited some more for Abed to turn and look at him.Normally, he wouldn’t worry about getting Abed to make eye contact, but he wasn’t completely sure how to say what he needed to say, so he was going to have to count on Abed knowing his face well enough to see how sincere he was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Abed.I’m going on this trip because Pierce left me fourteen million dollars if I go.Nothing like this will ever happen to me again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Jeff said he could—“</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Okay, and maybe I’m a little interested in becoming a man, or whatever.Maybe I want to prove that I’m better than Pierce, that I can do something he couldn’t.Maybe I’m just kinda scared that he’ll haunt me if I cheat at this.”Abed was staring into the corner again, but the side of his mouth twitched when Troy said Pierce might haunt him.Troy hadn’t really been joking about that, but he took it as a good sign.“The point is, Abed, I’m still gonna be Troy when I come back.I’ll change and grow and shit, but I won’t stop being me.Look, it’s not like I’m exactly the same as I was the day we met.Being in the study group changed me forever.But I’m still the same </span> <span class="s2"> <em>person</em> </span> <span class="s1"> I was, I’m just… better at it, now.So when I come back, I’m not going to be someone new.I’m just going to be Troy, but like, Troy 2.0.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Technically, you’ll be Troy 3.0, since you already changed once by joining the study group,” Abed pointed out, but he was staring at his hands in his lap instead of up into the corner, so Troy relaxed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I wish I really had a Troy 2.0,” Troy mused, sliding over to climb up the ladder and sit next to Abed on the top bunk.“Then I could send him on the trip, and I could stay in Colorado and have adventures with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think it would only work if the other Troy had all your memories.Like a clone,” Abed considered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, like a clone.”Troy reached for Abed’s hand, held it between both of his own.Abed placed his other hand on top of Troy’s.Troy leaned into Abed, resting his chin on Abed’s shoulder like he’d done a thousand times.“That would be cool.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Cool.Cool cool cool.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>The creaks in the floorboards are calling out to me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I’m laying here again</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>With my head on my backpack</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Wrapped in my hoodie</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>This is how it is when—</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>June 3rd, 2012 - 3:58am</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy focused on keeping his breathing quiet as he lay underneath his bed in the AC Repair School dorm, using his crumpled red duffel bag as a pillow.The tears streaming down his face dripped down the sides of his neck uncomfortably, but there wasn’t enough space under the bed to reach up and wipe them away, and anyway, he’d been crying under here for hours, so there really wouldn’t have been any point.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy sniffled as quietly as he could, staring up at the underside of his bed.He’d crawled under here once to hide from his roommates while he cried, and discovered that having a mattress above him was comforting—it reminded him of sleeping on the bottom bunk underneath Abed—so it became his private hiding spot.He was sure his roommates knew what he was doing, but they were at least nice enough not to mention it to him directly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> One of his roommates shifted in his sleep, and the frame of his bed groaned.The sound reminded Troy of the creaking floorboards of his apartment, which always seemed to creak the most when Annie woke up at seven in the morning on the Monday of a long weekend and crept around the apartment for the next three hours trying not to disturb Troy and Abed.A fresh wave of tears spilled out with the memory, and Troy bit his lip to keep from sobbing out loud.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Slowly, he slid his hand up the side of his body, until he could reach the sleeve of his gray PAINTBALL 2010 hoodie with his teeth.He jammed the cuff into his mouth, pressing his hand against his mouth as he cried silently.After just a few breaths, he regretted bringing the hoodie up to his face where he could smell it.It used to smell like home, like the lemony-scented laundry detergent Annie and Abed had agreed to use, and like the buttery smell of popcorn and noodles that settled over the apartment more evenings than it didn’t, and like the candles Annie kept locked in her room after what became colloquially known as The Shadow Puppet Tragedy of 2011.Troy had kept it tucked away ever since he moved into AC Repair School housing, hoping it would keep smelling like home forever, but it didn’t take long for the scent to fade away.At least the hoodie smelled like nothing at all, which was better than the greasy odor that had begun to cling to the rest of his clothes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy clasped his other arm around his body, wrapping the hoodie around him more tightly.He’d cried when Abed gave it to him, he remembered, and he was crying now, missing Abed, missing the apartment, missing everyone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Eventually, just as he did every night, he ran out of tears and finally found himself tired enough to fall asleep, so he carefully slid out from under the bed, pulling the duffel bag out behind him.He shrugged off the hoodie and tucked it inside the bag next to his letter jacket and jeans, shivering despite the perfectly-engineered temperature of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy crawled into bed and pulled up the covers.He shut his eyes, tried to relax.He barely had time, before falling asleep, to realize he could hear birds beginning to chirp outside.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say it’s up to me</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>Don’t say—</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>May 17th, 2012</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy grabbed another pair of socks out of their pile, pretending not to notice that Abed and Annie were still sitting on the bottom bunk, watching him.When they got home after saving Greendale from Chang, Troy had rushed to be the first one in the shower, hoping the other two would take the hint.When it became clear that they hadn’t, Troy tried ignoring them, thinking they would go away if he just pretended they weren’t there.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> That was an hour ago.Troy had packed and repacked his duffel bag so many times he’d lost count, feigning dissatisfaction with every arrangement before dumping it out on the floor and starting over.Nobody had spoken since they’d walked in the door.Annie and Abed just sat there, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>watching him</em></span><span class="s1">, waiting for him to say something.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> But there wasn’t much to say.He didn’t want to go to the AC Repair School any more than his friends wanted him to leave, but what choice did he have?Let Chang burn down the school when he </span> <span class="s2"> <em>knew</em> </span> <span class="s1"> he could do something about it?</span> <span class="s2"> <em>Obviously</em> </span> <span class="s1"> saving his friends’ lives was more important than being in their lives.</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Still, Troy felt awful about it.It was going to </span> <span class="s2"> <em>suck</em> </span> <span class="s1"> not being around them.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Eventually, Annie gave up.She sighed as she stood up, crossed the room silently to give Troy a tight hug, then smiled tearfully through the door of the blanket fort.Troy waited until he heard the door of her room latch shut before scooping up the rest of his belongings and dumping them into the duffel bag in a heap.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You said you wouldn’t leave,” Abed said suddenly, breaking the silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know.”What else was there to say?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You said you would tell me right away if you decided to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Troy winced at the hurt in Abed’s voice, at the way it made his own heart hurt.He remembered promising that, remembered their pinky swear.He remembered </span> <span class="s2"> <em>meaning</em> </span> <span class="s1"> it, at the time.He’d meant it longer than that, too—until a few hours ago, he would never even have considered moving out of Apartment 303, ever, unless Abed was by his side (Annie too, if she wanted to come, but Troy wasn’t so worried about her).</span></p><p class="p3"><span class="s1"> <em>I couldn’t tell you before I nodded at that camera, because you’d try to talk me out of it</em></span><span class="s3"><em>, </em>Troy wanted to say, </span> <span class="s1"> <em>and I was afraid you would win, and then we’d all die, and if we survived you’d still think it was your fault</em></span><span class="s3"><em>.</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” he said instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed stood up, then, and for a moment Troy thought he was going to leave like Annie had, but he just climbed up the ladder to the top bunk and laid down under the covers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy flipped the top of his duffel bag closed, then used his foot to hold the flap down while he zipped it shut.He stuck his head out of the blanket fort to check that the front door was locked, switched off the lamp atop the dresser, and climbed into his own bed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Troy,” Abed’s voice came from above him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you awake?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed climbed down the ladder without another word.Troy smiled as he watched Abed move deftly in the dim light of the Christmas lights strung across the ceiling of the blanket fort.He shifted his body closer to the wall, making room for Abed to crawl under the covers next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> They’d shared a bed before, countless times—falling asleep curled up on the couch together or on the bottom bunk after watching a movie, when they were both too tired to safely climb the ladder to the top bunk—but this felt different.Every other time they’d slept next to each other, it had been out of necessity, while this was—well, somehow this felt necessary, too.Troy hadn’t realized how much he </span> <span class="s2"> <em>needed</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to be close to Abed until he’d felt the warmth of Abed’s skin through the sleeve of his pajamas.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy wrapped an arm around Abed, tucking his head onto Abed’s chest under his chin.They stayed like that until morning, holding onto each other tightly beneath the blankets.After a while, Troy fell asleep.He wasn’t sure Abed ever did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We moved on again, so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I packed my shit and left home</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It’s alright to think I still belong to something I don’t</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>‘Cause I can see why you’d think—</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>November 10th, 2011 - 1:06pm</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want a candy cigarette.I want our Annie,” Troy whined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, we blew it,” Abed agreed, slotting the cigarette back into its case.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy snatched the cigarette case out of Abed’s hands, fished one out.“I picked the wrong week to quit,” he muttered, finishing out the bit before going on.“What do we do now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed frowned, tensing.“The Dreamatorium is non-negotiable,” he warned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I know, that’s not even a question.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s on the lease,” Abed added unnecessarily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, yeah, I know.Don’t worry about that, buddy,” Troy assured him absently.“I just… I don’t want Annie to think I’m still the jerk she knew in high school, you know?I want her to see that I’ve, like, grown up and stuff.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The Dreamatorium isn’t childish,” Abed protested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s not what I mean.I mean like, grown up in the way where you think about other people’s feelings before you do things,” Troy explained.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed nodded, thinking.“We could offer her exclusive use of the Dreamatorium on alternating Wednesdays,” he suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy shook his head.“I don’t think that will work.I don’t think this is about the Dreamatorium, you know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed cocked his head.“But we know that Annie’s mad because of the Dreamatorium,” he reasoned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know if that’s it, though,” Troy disagreed.“Annie’s usually pretty cool about awesome stuff like the Dreamatorium, and when she’s not cool about it, it’s usually because she’s afraid someone will get hurt.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy’s phone buzzed in his pocket.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shirley says she and Britta will be there soon, she’s sorry they’re running late, and that Britta picked up a hitchhiker and it’s a long story,” he paraphrased from the text on his screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Abed’s eyes widened.“I know we’re dealing with something here, but I cannot </span> <span class="s2"> <em>wait</em> </span> <span class="s1"> to hear that story.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me too,” Troy grinned, then stuck his phone back in his pocket.“We need to think of a way to fix this before Britta and Shirley get here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “We know Annie got mad when she found the Dreamatorium, but we </span> <span class="s2"> <em>also</em> </span> <span class="s1"> know that Annie is pretty cool, so the Dreamatorium is probably not the issue,” Abed recited.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She seemed weird before she opened the Dreamatorium door, though,” Troy pointed out, beginning to pace around the room.“Like, she seemed excited when we showed her how cool the blanket fort was, but it kind of sounded like that time Britta called your rolling boulder scale model ‘super sexy cool’, like she was trying too hard to be excited and it came out kind of squished.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe she’s worried that we’ll be too loud in the living room when she’s trying to study in her blanket fort?We could make a schedule,” Abed offered, “and then while Annie is studying we’ll move around in our socks and make no noise, and—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Abed,” Troy cut him off.“I don’t think that’s it.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed’s face fell.“Yeah, you’re probably right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I think that might be part of it,” Troy went on, and Abed perked up.“Hear me out: Annie might just not think having a blanket fort for a bedroom is cool.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That doesn’t make any sense.Who wouldn’t want to live in a blanket fort?”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Maybe Annie doesn’t,” Troy said, shrugging.He agreed with Abed that wanting to live in a blanket fort made </span> <span class="s2"> <em>way</em> </span> <span class="s1"> more sense than </span> <span class="s2"> <em>not</em> </span> <span class="s1"> wanting to live in a blanket fort, but other people were weird sometimes.“But </span> <span class="s2"> <em>we</em> </span> <span class="s1"> do, and we have one bedroom and one blanket fort.Let’s just switch, so Annie can live in a bedroom and we can live in a blanket fort, </span> <span class="s2"> <em>and</em> </span> <span class="s1"> we can keep the Dreamatorium.Everything I own fits in one duffel bag anyway, it’s not like I need a lot of space.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed grinned.“I think you got it,” he said confidently.Troy beamed.“But even with Shirley and Britta’s help, we’re going to have to hurry if we want to move everything before Annie gets back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy nodded seriously.They did their handshake, then Abed winked and took off running in the direction of the blanket fort.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Race you!” he called over his shoulder, and Troy did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>We moved on again, so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I packed my shit and left home</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It’s all right to think I still belong to something I don’t</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>‘Cause I can see why you’d think so</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>September 3rd, 2011 </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The back of Abed’s dad’s car was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. Somehow, they’d managed to squeeze all three boxes containing Abed’s impossibly vast collection of graphic tees, flannels, and cardigans into the trunk, and even with Abed’s DVD collection filling the backseat, there was just enough room for Abed to squish his skinny body into the spot behind the passenger seat, too.Troy wedged the last bag of blankets—it was labeled “Construction Supplies”—into the trunk, then shut it, surprised that it closed without issue.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He crammed his red duffel bag into the space between the passenger seat, and the floor, then climbed onto the seat, settling his feet on top of his bag.He turned to reach for his seatbelt, and jumped a little when he encountered Abed’s face a few inches from his own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry you have to sit next to my dad,” Abed whispered now that he’d gotten Troy’s attention.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s cool.At least I don’t have to worry about being crushed by a falling box of DVDs,” Troy whispered back.Secretly, he was still a little scared of Gobi Nadir, but he wasn’t about to admit that.Besides, Troy wouldn’t have been able to fit into the overstuffed backseat if he’d tried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have terrible breath right now,” Abed replied, and Troy grinned.Somewhere along the way, they’d started using the line as a way to end whispered conversations if they weren’t sure what else to say.Abed had probably started it—he was the one who usually remembered callbacks like that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Gobi opened the door on his side of the car and got in, grumbling to himself in Arabic.Troy twisted in his seat to catch Abed’s eye, to see if Gobi was saying anything interesting, but Abed shook his head a little and mouthed “falafel”, so Troy turned back around.He tapped his feet on top of his duffel bag and stared out the window as they drove.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The drive didn't take very long, because one of the conditions Gobi had made for Abed moving out was that he still had to live close enough to be able to pick up shifts at the falafel restaurant when Gobi needed him to, and Abed didn’t drive.When they pulled up outside their new apartment building, Abed hopped out almost before the car had stopped.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine, run away from your father as fast as you can,” Gobi muttered.Troy swallowed, worried that Gobi was going to get angry, wondering if he was rethinking letting Abed move out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Gobi saw the look on Troy’s face and sighed.“You don’t need to worry.I’ve made my peace with it,” he said.He turned away, reached for the door handle, then paused.“Honestly, if he must move out, I am glad he will be with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy must have made a noise at that, because Gobi sat back in his seat and looked over at Troy soberly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m serious,” he said, meeting Troy’s eyes.“If he were alone, I would worry about him.But I think… I think that as long as he has you, he will be okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy could hear Abed unloading boxes from the trunk and stacking them on the ground, and he felt bad about letting Abed do all the work himself but he wasn’t sure how to end this super uncomfortable conversation with Abed’s dad.It wasn’t like he could just whisper “you have terrible breath right now”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy nodded.Gobi went on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “His whole life, all he cared about were his movies and his television programs,” he said, gripping the steering wheel with both hands even though the car was in park.“But now I think that even without them, if he had you, he would be okay.It is like you are all that he needs.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy stared down at his feet, unsure what to say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” he tried.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” Gobi answered, and got out of the car.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy rushed to follow suit, almost falling onto the pavement but catching himself at the last second.Abed smirked, and Troy grinned back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He slung the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and picked up one of the smaller boxes of DVDs to carry up the stairs.For the first time since moving in with Pierce, he didn’t feel weird about only having one bag of stuff.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I think Abed is all I need, too</em></span>
  <span class="s2"><em>,</em> he thought contentedly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I stacked “Lonelier than God” next to “You Get So Alone Sometimes”</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I know how this must look from the outside.</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>It took almost thirteen months for me to be where I feel fine</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b> <em>I’m not as sad as I let myself believe sometimes</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>July 24th, 2015 - 6:47pm</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> By some stroke of luck, Troy docked in Los Angeles just as Abed finished work for the day.It took a while to deal with the legal stuff, and for Troy and LeVar to say their goodbyes, but it took almost as long for Abed to make his way to the dock, so Troy barely got a chance to glance at Abed’s </span> <span class="s2"> <em>I’m here</em> </span> <span class="s1"> text before his phone was knocked out of his hand with the impact of Abed’s hug.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I hope that didn’t break it,” Abed said into Troy’s shoulder, but he didn’t pull away to check.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fine if it did, I’m a millionaire now.I can get another one,” Troy reassured him, hugging him back just as tightly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When they finally broke apart, they discovered that Troy’s phone hadn’t broken, which didn’t really surprise Troy, because it had survived the whole getting-kidnapped-by-pirates thing pretty well.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would have made some pretty good dramatic irony, for you to make it the whole trip with your phone intact, only to have it break the second we were reunited,” Abed pointed out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy grinned.“I missed you, buddy,” he said, pulling Abed in for another hug even though they’d just finished the first one.“Out of everyone I met around the world, nobody else said shit like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He felt Abed smile against his shoulder, and squeezed him tighter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We should probably call a Lyft soon,” Abed said.“We don’t want to be stuck out here after dark.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy glanced up at the sky.“The sun won’t go down for another hour,” he commented.“But I’m really hungry, so let’s get going.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s a cool trick,” Abed said admiringly.“The sun thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy shrugged.“You pick some stuff up when you sail around the world.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed looked for a moment like he was going to grab Troy again and hug him, but he pulled out his phone instead.“Cool, we can get picked up in five minutes,” he said, scrolling and tapping.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll get dinner since you’re calling a ride,” Troy said.The words came automatically, even though he hadn’t said those words to Abed in over two years.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “You’re </span> <span class="s2"> <em>definitely</em> </span> <span class="s1"> getting dinner, because you’re a millionaire now and I have rent to pay.”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right.Forgot about that.”It was going to take a while to get used to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The car pulled up a few minutes later, as Troy was telling Abed about sailing through the Panama Canal, trying to describe it like a scene from a movie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy picked up his duffel bag and walked up to the passenger side of the car.He opened the door and set the bag in the front seat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, I don’t wanna be rude, but I haven’t seen my best friend in two and a half years, so I’m gonna sit in the back with him,” he told the driver.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You do you, man,” she shrugged, and Troy climbed into the back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The restaurant Abed had chosen was nice, but not so nice that Troy felt underdressed in his plain blue t-shirt and jeans.The host seated them at a booth off to the side, and Troy slid his duffel bag under the table so it would be out of the way.He slid into the booth across from Abed.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> They ordered some appetizers with their drinks, then had to ask their server to come back three separate times before they ordered their meals because they kept getting distracted from the menu by the fact that they were </span> <span class="s2"> <em>sitting at a table together</em> </span> <span class="s1"> for the first time in years.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Everyone else in this restaurant thinks we’re on a date,” Troy pointed out once they’d finally ordered—a burger for Troy, spaghetti for Abed.Troy had raised his eyebrows when Abed didn’t ask them to hold the sauce on his pasta, but Abed shook his head and explained, once the waiter was gone, that he’d eaten here before and didn’t mind the sauce they made.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All our friends thought we were a couple for four years,” Abed reminded him.“It doesn’t matter to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me neither,” Troy said, smiling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As they ate, Troy told Abed stories about his trip, and Abed told Troy stories about working in TV.Troy didn’t really understand half of what Abed said, but Abed had a way of making a story interesting even if it didn’t make sense to Troy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Eventually, Troy’s voice got tired of talking so much.He and LeVar had sometimes gone whole days on open water without speaking to each other except to keep the ship running, and even on the days when they hung out together, playing cards or just watching the ocean roll by, their conversations had never had the tempo or rhythm of a Troy-and-Abed conversation.He was out of practice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So was it worth it?” Abed finally asked, stealing one of the last fries off Troy’s plate.“Did you find yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not sure,” Troy confessed.“I think so.It was kinda rough, though.It took a year, maybe more, before I started really enjoying it.Like, there was lots of stuff I had fun doing during the first half, but it always felt like something was missing.And I’m not really sure if I got over it after a while, or if I just started getting excited to come back once we finally hit the halfway point.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed looked thoughtful.“At least you got Pierce’s money.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, we can get dessert without dipping into the costume budget.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Abed grinned and made eye contact with their waiter across the room, nodding.Troy silently marveled at the graceful, if rehearsed, way Abed navigated the social norms of restaurant dining.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>I’m not the only one who’s changed</em></span><span class="s1">, Troy thought.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m glad you’re back,” Abed said, interrupting Troy’s thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Troy reached across the table to grab Abed’s hand.“Me too, buddy,” he said, then pulled his hand away so that it was resting on the table next to Abed’s instead.“Sorry.I’m being super clingy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, but you live here and stuff.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Abed laughed.“LA is a big place.It’s not like Greendale, I don’t walk into a coffee shop and see three people from freshman Biology class and two more from high school.”He took Troy’s hand back into his own.“Besides, anyone who saw us right now would just see me with someone who makes me really happy, someone who’s really important to me, and that’s all true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me too,” Troy said, which didn’t really make any sense at all, but he knew that Abed knew what he meant.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Abed squeezed his hand tightly and grinned.They ordered two different desserts, and split both, holding hands across the table as they ate.Troy brushed his foot against his duffel bag under the table.</span> <span class="s2"> <em>This is everything I need</em></span><span class="s1">, he thought peacefully.</span> <span class="s2"><em>This is everything I </em>have<em>, one duffel bag and Abed, but that’s okay, because that’s everything I need</em></span><span class="s1"><em>.</em> </span></p>
  </div></div>
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